


Rage

by Lyatt1941



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Anger, Anger Management, F/M, Love Confessions, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 04:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16189814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyatt1941/pseuds/Lyatt1941
Summary: Lucy has trouble sleeping after the confrontation she had with Emma in the alleyway in Chinatown.  Wyatt attempts to get her to open up to him.





	Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I was really nervous writing this one because I tend to go for the more lighthearted stuff and I really feel that in this one is kind of dark. I had an idea for this fic and had started writing it not long after season finale, but then I abandoned it because I just didn't want to go there...but with Lyattweek, it had me going through my old files and I found this again and decided to just go for it. 
> 
> Again, I finished this in just the space of a couple days so keep that in mind - don't judge too harshly!
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated.

_Lucy._

 

Emma Whitmore’s eyes were fixed on Lucy Preston’s.   The tremor in her voice betraying the fear that she worked so hard to hide.  In a different time, a different place, Lucy would have cared that Emma was vulnerable, injured…unarmed.  But right now, in this moment, she did not give a damn.  Everything.  She had lost everything.  Her mother, Wyatt, Amy, and now Rufus.  Her family. Gone.  Lucy pushed the revolver harder into Emma’s forehead, daring her to speak again, daring the Rittenbitch to move.

 

She stared at her as the rage towards this one woman who seemed hell-bent on making Lucy suffer coursed through her veins like a torrential flood.

 

Lucy’s hands shook as she pulled the trigger. 

 

_BANG_

Her eyes shot open to her darkened room in the cold, dank bunker.  Her heart was pounding in her chest, as the rage she felt continued to course through her veins. She exhaled a shaky breath, drawing her knees up to her chest as she sat upright on the thin metal cot that served as her bed in this depressing place she called a home.     

 

Two years ago, she had been an untenured history professor, eager to please her mother who was dying of cancer.  She had been terrified by the prospect of chasing a terrorist through time, and had nearly been consumed by panic at the thought of merely walking into a Nazi party. Now, she was having vivid dreams reliving a moment that would forever be burned in her memory – the moment she almost murdered Emma Whitmore. 

 

Lucy turned her face to the alarm clock on the shelf.  _2:04 A.M._  So much for sleeping through the night…not that she had since Chinatown.  If it wasn’t Emma’s face she saw in her nightmares, it was Rufus’ – his last gasps for breath, the look of fear in his eyes, the sense of overwhelming sadness that seemed to permeate the air all around them.  She wiped the dampness from her eyes, reached over to grab a pair of woolen socks from her nightstand and pulled them on.  No use sitting in her room freezing – she would go out to the kitchen and make herself a cup of tea…and then maybe, maybe she might get a few hours of sleep before the bunker sprung to life again. 

 

She shuffled out of into the darkened corridor, trying to make as little noise as possible…hard to do in the echo chamber that was that rusty metal hole of a bunker.  She rubbed her eyes as she walked down the hall trying to clear her mind of the image of Emma’s cold dead eyes staring back at her – it would not do to dwell on those dark thoughts in her wakeful hours too.     

 

She had just set the kettle on the stove when she heard a gravelly voice murmur behind her, “Trouble sleeping?”

 

The sound of Wyatt’s voice nearly caused her to jump out of her skin.  She braced herself on the counter, before turning to face him with an embarrassed tilt of the head, “I forgot you were out here.”

 

Wyatt had relegated himself to the uncomfortable couch after…well, everything.  He could hardly expect Rufus and Jiya to allow him a place in his old room…not that he ever wanted to be in there again.  Jessica’s betrayal, what that had meant for his relationship with the team, with Lucy…that room was reminder of how damn foolish he had been.  While it would have served him right to be forced to live there with the memories of it all, he figured it was more selfless of him to take the piece of plastic that passed as a couch and let Rufus and Jiya have some much-needed privacy. He could hardly expect Lucy to allow him to share her room after he had done everything that he could to rip apart their blossoming relationship…so the couch it was and Wyatt was grateful for it…grateful that he was even allowed a place in this hell hole, with his team, after he had caused so much pain. 

 

He rubbed his face as he studied Lucy.  She was wan, thin, the bruises on her face still marring her features. He felt a great tug of guilt as he looked at her, knowing that he was the cause of all of that hurt, both physically and emotionally.  “What’s going on, Lucy?  This isn’t the first time you’ve been out here in the dead of night for a cup of tea…it’s not the second or the third either.  In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve done this every night since Chinatown.”

 

Lucy bit her lip as she darted her eyes to his face and then quickly looked away.  She couldn’t bear the intensity of his searching gaze.  He knew her…too well…and she couldn’t allow that right now. She turned back to the kettle, pouring the hot water into a mug she had already prepared, “Have you been spying on me?”

 

“No.” Wyatt said matter-of-factly, “It’s just kind of hard to sleep out here and not notice when someone makes nightly kitchen raids.” He leaned forward with a smirk, “Flynn ate the last of the Oreos, by the way.”

 

She turned her head slightly and gave him a small smile, still not confident enough to face him with the remnants of her dream still drifting through her waking mind.  She took a sip of her tea and turned towards him, her eyes trained to the floor.  “I just need a little something to help me go back to sleep every once in a while, that’s all.  Tea relaxes me.”

 

Wyatt nodded at her thoughtfully, “Do you want to talk about what’s keeping you up at night?”

 

Lucy, again, refused to meet his gaze.  She could tell he was studying her, trying to read her like a book…but if he knew the truth, what would he think?  Did she even care?

 

“No.” she answered shortly, ignoring the almost imperceptible flinch Wyatt gave to that abrupt answer. “I’m sorry I woke you.” she murmured as she slipped past his makeshift bed and made her way back to her own room. 

 

She felt Wyatt’s eyes follow her all the way down the hall, until she had turned the corner to where her living quarters were.  Closing the door behind her, she sank down on the floor, with her tea cradled in her palms. She sipped her mug of chamomile and felt her tension melt away, the warmth that it offered felt comforting, especially in the cold dark gloominess of the bunker. 

 

Lucy wished she could talk to Wyatt, but everything was still so tense between them.  Yes, he had told her he loved her and as happy as those words made her feel, she was still hurt.  Granted, she had pushed him towards Jessica…more than once.  Hell, she had even asked Jessica to stay…and it was her mother who had brought her back in the first place.  Her mother who had taken Wyatt’s version of Jessica and corrupted her so that she was this unrecognizable thing that broke his heart all over again.  So yes, Wyatt had hurt her for bringing Jessica to the bunker, but she had hurt him too and the thought of burdening him with anymore grief over what had transpired in the past few months was unthinkable.

 

She picked herself up off the floor and crawled back under her covers, placing her now empty mug on the nightstand.  There was no way she was going back out there tonight...not with Wyatt alerted and concerned about her nightly escapes to the kitchen.  She laid her head down, but her thoughts would not be quieted.  Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Wyatt’s face etched in grief, Emma’s sneer as she punched her in that alley, her mother’s face as she gasped out her last breath, Rufus as he lay there dying in Jiya’s arms, and Amy…gone forever as far as Lucy knew…thanks to Emma Whitmore. 

 

________

 

Lucy must have fallen asleep at some point in the night.  She blinked her eyes open as the sound of a bunker abuzz with activity rattled around her.  She sat in her bed for a moment, thinking about what had happened in the dead of night between her and Wyatt.  She hated that things were so strained between them, but trusting him and loving him were two different things and she wasn’t sure if she could open herself up fully to either of those at the moment. They both had plenty of baggage to sort through and well, neither one of them were emotionally ready for anything more than just...whatever the hell they were right now. Team mates? Bunk mates? Friends? 

She had just resolved to pretend that nothing had happened last night, when she opened her door to find Wyatt standing in front of it, with two cups of coffee.

 

“Hi.” he whispered sheepishly, “I…I wasn’t sure if you were awake yet or not.  I thought you might want...I mean, I figured you might need...ya know, after...well, I know I needed some coffee this morning.”

 

So much for pretending nothing happened last night. 

 

She took it from him with a small smile. “Thanks.” Two creams and one sugar, just the way she liked it.

 

Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, “Look, I’m sorry about last night, Lucy.  I know I don’t have any right to ask you about anything…I just…I just wanted to let you know that if you want to talk, I’m here and if you don’t…I understand.”

 

 Lucy closed her eyes as she fought an inward battle with herself. Should she tell Wyatt what had been bothering her, relieving some of her mental stress and anxiety or keep it to herself and work it out on her own?

 

Wyatt cast his eyes downward at her silence and was making his way back down the hall when Lucy called out to him, “Do...do you want to come in for a little bit?”

 

Wyatt turned abruptly, his face showing just a flicker of hope as he entered her room and sat down on the cot opposite hers.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucy cut him off.

 

“I want you to teach me how to shoot.” she admitted without looking at him. 

 

Wyatt studied her seriously for a moment.  Lucy knew he was reading her, studying her every feature…she panicked for just an instant thinking that he would see too much and then she would be done for.  After several moments of silence Wyatt spoke in a hushed and measured tone. “I’ll teach you, Lucy…but I don’t want you actively looking for trouble.  If I teach you, it’s only to be used as a last resort for self-defense.”

 

Lucy didn’t answer, she just sipped her coffee unconcernedly and avoided his gaze.  Wyatt seemed to suspect what she was thinking, because he added, “Lucy, it’s _my_ job is to take out active threats.  To protect you, to protect the team.”

 

“And what if you’re not here to do your job?” Lucy snapped impatiently, though the moment she said it, she regretted it.  Wyatt looked like he had been stabbed through the heart.  She sighed in resignation and after a few moments of awkward silence she continued, “I didn’t mean it like that, Wyatt.” Lucy said softly.  “I just…you can’t be everywhere all at once…and since I have a target on my back, I want to be able to fight back without relying on others to help me.”

 

Wyatt nodded slowly, but his eyes looked at Lucy warily.  “Okay…I’ll talk to Agent Christopher and see if we can’t break out of here and practice outside.”  He smirked at her, “Can’t exactly teach you in here now, can I?”

 

Lucy shook her head with a small smile as he got up from the cot and left her room. 

 

Later that afternoon, Wyatt approached her as she was sitting in the common area with a satisfied smile, “Guess what?  Christopher gave us the green light.  You’re about to get your very first personalized shooting lesson.”

 

Flynn, who was reading on the couch, set down his book and studied the two of them.  “You’re learning how to shoot, Lucy?”

 

She colored a bit, “Yes. I just want to be prepared.”

 

Flynn raised his eyebrows and gave her a look of concern as he watched her stand up from the table and put her glass of lemonade in the sink.  “Do you think that’s such a good idea?”

 

Lucy turned abruptly as Wyatt looked between her and Flynn with apprehension.  “If Agent Christopher doesn’t have a problem with it, then you shouldn’t either.”  She looked at Wyatt.  “That goes for both of you.” 

 

Wyatt shrugged, “No problem, here.”  He made one quick glance at Flynn before he jerked his head towards the bunker door, “C’mon let’s go.”

 

It struck Lucy as she climbed out of the bunker that she had only done this one other time in all the months that they had lived there.  John F. Kennedy had escaped and she Wyatt…and Jessica had clambered out of the bunker in hot pursuit.  Whether or not Wyatt had realized the same thing, she wasn’t sure.  He, at least, had been out of the bunker in the present more times than she had and so maybe the moment wasn’t as significant for him as it was for her.  He held out his hand to her as she reached the top rung of the ladder and stepped out into the blinding sun.  It’s rays warmed her and made her feel comfortable and alive…more than she had in the last few days of nursing her injuries in the cool, dark, dank of the rusty bunker. 

 

Lucy watched as Wyatt set up various targets for her to practice on.  Since they didn’t have paper targets, Wyatt took some spray paint and made his own using old rubber trash bins and large pieces of wood.  Setting them out at different distances, he returned to her side and huffed out, “Okay, you’ve got three different targets at three different distances: 3 yards, 5 yards and 7 yards…those are your basic distances for the type of shooting you’d be involved in.”

 

Lucy nodded, blinking away the memory of the barrel of her gun resting on Emma’s forehead. 

 

Wyatt spent the next few minutes going over gun safety and how to load and unload the gun without having to fire a shot.  After teaching her the proper grip technique, Wyatt swallowed hard and placed his hands on Lucy’s hips to correct her stance. “Stand with your legs apart and put one foot in front of the other one.”  Lucy shifted her position and Wyatt removed his hands as he cleared his throat. “Take careful aim…let’s start at the 5 yard target.”  He leveled her arms and gently shook her elbow with his hand, “Don’t lock up your joints…relax.”  He pointed to the sight on the gun…” Use your sights to help you line up your target…now slowly press your index finger on the trigger…breathe out.”  She pulled the trigger. 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

She looked up at him blankly.  “What did I do wrong?”

 

Wyatt smiled, “Nothing…you just have a dummy in there.  Did you think I was going to start you off with actual bullets?”  He shook his head, “Clear the barrel, and take aim again.”

 

Lucy pulled back on the slide with some difficulty and ejected the dummy bullet and took aim again.  On and on it went with Wyatt giving her pointers from time to time and reminding her to breathe.  As this process continued, loading and reloading the gun became easier, more natural, and she was not the only one who seemed to notice. After quickly clearing the barrel and reloading the weapon in just a matter of seconds, Wyatt pulled out a box of ammunition. "Okay, Lucy…" he said as he opened the case, "I think you're ready to try the real deal. This isn’t like shooting off dummy rounds.  When you shoot with these, you’re going to feel the punch of the gun…it’s going to kick back on you, so you need to be ready for it.” 

 

“I have fired a gun before, Wyatt.”  Lucy said with a withering stare. 

 

Wyatt nodded, “Anyone can fire a gun, Lucy…it’s the control and the accuracy that make a difference. Let’s see how you do, but first…” He pulled out a package of earplugs and stuck a pair in his own ears and offered them to Lucy who did the same.

 

He stood back away from her, watching her carefully as she took her first shot.

 

 It missed the target completely.

 

Wyatt stood close to her again and gently placed his hand on her arm, “Relax through the shot, pull the trigger on your exhale and focus on the target.”

 

The problem was, Wyatt's proximity to her, his hand on her arm, put her in mind of how things used to be; of Hollywood and the Alamo and possibilities...Lucy gritted her teeth and shot again, this time hitting the rubber trash bin but getting no where near the spray painted target that Wyatt had created for her. 

 

“Relax.” Wyatt instructed as he watched Lucy tense up once more. 

 

How could she relax? Wyatt being so close reminded her of how much she had lost, how much Rittenhouse had destroyed her life.  Amy, her mother, Rufus, Wyatt...it was like because she wouldn’t take her place in their sick and twisted cult they were systematically taking away all of the people that meant the most to her.

 

And at the head of it all? Emma Whitmore. 

 

Lucy was suddenly transported back to that alley in Chinatown, she could see her retreating figure. She shot again and again, but still Emma ran. 

 

“Lucy…” Wyatt called to her, but she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care.  When her gun was spent, she grabbed for Wyatt’s and again, shot erratically until the clip was empty.  With angry tears streaming down her face, she grabbed for the box of ammunition. Wyatt gently wrenched the gun out of her hand.  “Lucy, stop.”

 

“I want to try again, Wyatt.” She gritted through her tears. 

 

“I think you’ve had enough training for one day.”

 

Lucy clenched her jaw and stared defiantly back at him, “Give me the gun, Wyatt.” She demanded. 

 

“No, Lucy.” he replied with the utmost patience. 

 

“Give me the damn gun” she nearly screamed at him, but he merely looked back at her with a look mixed with pity and anguish.    

 

“Not until you tell me why we're really out here." Wyatt said calmly. 

Lucy's eyes lit up in fury, angry that he had used this as a...as a ruse to get her to open up to him. Sure, she was the one who had asked him to teach her, but that didn't mean she wanted to talk...that didn't mean she was okay with him attempting to get close to her again. "Fine.” She huffed out and stormed off back to the bunker.  Tears streaming down her face she threw up open the door and huffed past Flynn who watched her pass, seemingly unsurprised at the result of the training regimen. 

 

Wyatt came down shortly after, the boxes of ammunition and the guns stowed away in a box.  He walked over to the bunker weapons depot as Flynn followed him.  “What do you want?” he muttered. 

 

“I take it the training didn’t go so well?” Flynn observed. 

 

Wyatt looked back at him sardonically, “What makes you say that?”

 

Flynn pursed his lips and jutted out his jaw, “Just a hunch.”  He watched as Wyatt deposited the guns and ammunition in their proper places, “I’m not a psychiatrist, but I have a bit of experience when it comes to rage and aggression brought on by the death of a loved one.”

 

Wyatt stared back at him, “You think I don’t know what she’s dealing with?  I tried to talk to her last night, but she won’t open up…she just keeps it bottled in.”  He shook his head, “I talked to Agent Christopher…she, like me, thinks that this is a good way to help her cope.”

 

“By giving her a weapon?” Flynn asked with raised eyebrows.

 

“No…by teaching her control...giving her an outlet.”  Wyatt said simply as he walked away from Flynn.

 

\------------

 

Lucy was sitting on her cot staring at the wall opposite, her tracks of long since shed tears staining her cheeks when Wyatt knocked on her door. 

 

“Yeah?” Lucy said almost mechanically.

 

He pushed the door open slightly and stepped into her room, “You feeling better?”

 

Lucy scoffed, “No, why would I be?”

 

Wyatt shrugged, “Well, you burned off a little steam…let out some aggression.”  He eased himself down on the cot opposite hers, “It always helped me when I was angry.” 

 

Lucy stared back at him, “How did you-“

 

“C’mon Lucy, you think that after everything you’ve been through the past few months that it wouldn’t affect you in some way?”

 

“It’s not that.” Lucy said shortly as she looked at her hands. 

 

“Then what is it, Lucy?” Wyatt asked softly, “Because after what I saw up there, you’re going to have a hell of a time convincing me otherwise.”

 

There was no judgement in his voice, no pity either…he was just observing.  Lucy darted her eyes to his for just a moment before shifting somewhat uncomfortably on her bed.  “I am angry.” she admitted, “but that’s not what’s bothering me.”

 

Wyatt didn’t answer, he sat patiently waiting for her to talk.  She wished Wyatt wouldn’t look at her like that…like he could see right into her soul, like he knew her thoughts before she even uttered them.  She clenched her eyes shut as fresh tears fell from the corners, “You asked me what’s been keeping me up at night.” she sobbed, “I keep reliving that night in the alley.”

 

Wyatt’s eyes filled with tears of his own as he looked at her, seemingly broken and still bruised from her encounter with Emma.  He had been part of the cause that had driven her to that point.  He had left her after he promised he wouldn’t, he had brought Jessica to the bunker, he had kept his suspicions about her to himself, and when she betrayed them all and kidnapped Jiya, he still, like a fool, failed to see.  All those roads led to Chinatown, 1888…and Lucy and Rufus had borne the brunt of that failure. 

 

His failure. 

“Lucy,” he muttered in an unsteaady voice, “that’s perfectly normal.”

 

Lucy looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering but her face set in quiet determination, “I shot her in the leg, you know?  Emma. She was lying there on the ground, and I had that gun in my hand.”  Silent tears rolled down her face, as she whispered, “I wanted her dead, Wyatt. She had taken everything from me. Amy, my mother, Rufus…”her eyes darted up to his only for a moment before she quickly looked away again. 

 

The omission of his name in that list of people she had loved and lost wasn’t lost on Wyatt.  He wasn’t quite sure what she had meant by the exclusion, but the fact that her eyes had inadvertently flickered to his in that moment, told him that she may not have mentioned it, but she sure as hell was thinking it and he felt his guilt all the more fully. 

 

“Every night,” she murmured, “I close my eyes and I see Emma lying there, staring up at me” she gave a small smirk as she shook her head, “afraid.  And every night I do what I did in that alley…I push the gun to her forehead and I pull the trigger.” she whispered in a wavering voice.

 

To say that Wyatt was surprised was an understatement. He had no idea what all had transpired in the alley...he only knew that when Lucy took off down that darkened street, as Rufus lay dying in his arms, he was terrified...more terrified than he had ever been in his life. He had already mourned the loss of Lucy when duty and obligation had sent him back to Jessica, but losing her...really losing her was unthinkable. To live in a world without her? He knew it would be the end of him. But to now discover that the woman he knew and loved, the woman who was all kindness and forgiveness and... 

Wyatt's face reflected the anguish he felt twisting his heart like a wringer.  How had he let this happen?  Lucy, beautiful, selfless Lucy, had gone from the nervous, claustrophobic professor complaining about historically inaccurate underwear, to this...this broken, desperate, angry woman sitting before him and he knew with a pang that it was partly his fault.  He had thrown out the welcome mat for Rittenhouse, brought Jessica into the bunker, and broke Lucy's heart in the process.  He knew Rittenhouse had put a target on her back, he didn't know that he would be the one handing them the bullets.  It was so damn clear to him now, the one thing that could have ever caused him to leave Lucy's side and he had fallen for it, stepped right into their trap and it nearly broke the whole team.  Tears filled his eyes as he looked across the room at Lucy, gripping the sides of her cot and he was suddenly hit with the memory of when he had foolishly thought he had seen her at her lowest; when they had rescued her from 1918, France.  She had killed someone then...to prove herself to her mother, to Rittenhouse but had not planned to live with the consequences of that action.  She was on a suicide mission before he and Rufus had found her...but that, he now realized, was just the first step in her descent into the emotional hell Rittenhouse had in store for her.  Being sent to the gallows by her own mother, losing Wyatt in the midst of all of that, being forced to watch him with Jessica in this hell hole of a bunker, knowing that Amy was probably lost forever?  How he wanted to cross the space between them and wrap her up in his arms like he had done once before, as she sat there, silently crying.  But given what had passed between them since then - after he had told her that she hadn't lost him, no less - Wyatt couldn't bring himself to move, feeling that in this instance, he was in no position to offer that kind of comfort and any thing like that coming from him would be viewed as shallow and empty.

 

God, how he hated himself for that.       

 

After wiping away her tears, Lucy muttered, “But that’s not even the worst of it.  I should be upset that I almost murdered someone, but I’m not.” She seemed to hesitate as she looked towards Wyatt with pleading eyes, “I’m not upset that I almost killed her, that I pulled the trigger...I'm upset because I ran out of bullets." She let out a sob at that admission, "I wanted her dead, Wyatt…and I still do.”  She hung her head in shame and cried, “What kind of person does that make me?”

 

Well, hell...there was no way he could leave her sitting alone now.  She needed comfort, she needed assurance, she needed...well, he hoped she needed _him_.

   

Wyatt crouched down on the floor in front of her and took her hands in his.  “Lucy, listen to me.  It’s okay...it's okay.  She murdered your mother…do you know how many times I wanted to find out who killed...Je...my first wife…so that I could put a bullet in his brain?” 

 

She looked up at him and blinked slowly, “Really?”

 

“Yes, Lucy.” He got up off the floor and tenatively sat down beside her on the bed, “I pored over newspaper clippings for years…looking for any clue…anything the police might have missed so I could bring her killer to justice.” He shook his head, “But it was more than that.  I wanted to find him first.  I wanted to make him suffer the same pain, that I was feeling.”

 

Lucy looked at him out of the corner of her eye, not feeling confident enough to fully face him, “And how did you deal with that?”

 

“I became a reckless hot-head…more than I already was.” Wyatt said with a small chuckle.  “I threw myself into every mission, volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, took out my aggression on other bad guys…I stopped caring.” 

 

At those words, Lucy almost stopped breathing.  She was transported to a pool in 1941, standing next to Wyatt in what now felt like a dream…it seemed so long ago. 

 

Wyatt took her hands is his again, “You saved me, Lucy.”  He bit his lip as he tried to stem the flow of his own tears, “And I know I’ve done nothing to deserve it, but I wish you’d let me save you.”

 

Lucy broke down in sobs as Wyatt wrapped his arms around her and held her close.  To be held by him and loved by him was at once everything she wished for and everything she feared.  He had hurt her, and opening herself up to that kind of pain again, scared her.  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Wyatt, she did…but Rittenhouse had gone to great lengths to drive them apart and now, with Jessica alive and Emma still posing a threat, Lucy knew that the stakes were frighteningly high. 

 

She pulled away from his reluctantly, not daring to meet his gaze, “Wyatt…I can’t.”  Her heart broke as he hung his head down, “it’s not that I don’t love you…I do.”  Lucy nodded and gave him a small smile as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, a look of wonder on his face.  “But I can’t lose you again.  I’ve lost so much…and Rufus…Wyatt, Rufus was killed because of me.”

 

Wyatt gripped onto her shoulders, “Lucy, that was not your fault.”

 

“All of this is my fault, Wyatt.” Lucy argued.  “Rittenhouse did all of this to hurt me.  You told Emma and my mother that you would be there to protect me…you said that in 1918, do you remember?” Wyatt nodded as Lucy continued in a shaky voice, “Then what did they do?  They saved Jessica…and turned her into one of them.” She shook her head as the tears fell from her eyes.  Her family had destroyed the lives of everyone in that bunker.  Hell, they were all living in a hole underground because of her family…but the worst, the worst thing they could possibly have done was to take someone innocent, like Jessica Logan had been, and turn her into a one of their murderous sycophants. “Wyatt, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize for what they did.  It wasn’t you.”

 

“No, but it was _because_ of me.” she said in a small voice.  “Emma was aiming for me when she shot Rufus.”  She shook her head miserably, “They won’t stop, Wyatt. They’ll never stop.”

 

Wyatt cupped Lucy’s face in his hands and looked at her desperately, “Do you really love me?” Lucy nodded, “Good, then listen up, ma’am…I don’t give a damn about Rittenhouse or Jessica or Emma.  They can all go to hell as far as I’m concerned.” Lucy made to argue, but Wyatt cut her off, “There’s no getting rid of me this time.  I’ve learned my lesson…and I give you full permission to remind me of my massive screw up if you ever see me acting like an ass again.” 

 

“But Wyatt,” Lucy countered, “you and I will both be targets.”

 

“We were already targets, Lucy, but if that really was us swinging out of that LifeBoat a few days ago, I’d say we were doing a damn fine job of surviving...together.”

 

For the first time in what felt like centuries, Lucy broke into a full-fledged smile.  She nodded, “Yeah…I guess you’re right.”  She gave Wyatt a soft kiss before pulling back once more and sighing, “So what do we do now?”

 

“I don’t know” Wyatt shrugged with a smirk, “we make it up as we go along.”

 

“One thing at a time, right?” Lucy said as she folded herself into Wyatt’s embrace.

 

Wyatt kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her, “Right.”  


End file.
